


When Everything Dies

by FictionalKnight (Northern_Star)



Series: Omega [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-16
Updated: 2010-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Northern_Star/pseuds/FictionalKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark can't deal with the death of his father. Bruce tries to help.<br/>(prequel to the series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Everything Dies

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a prompt which was "something with angst and rain." There's plenty in here. ;)  
> This is set prior to Final Crisis and is a prequel to my Omega series.

It was dark and raining quite heavily when Superman set foot on the roof of a building that night. He didn't know exactly where he was; he hadn't been paying attention. He'd left Smallville sometime before - hours perhaps, he couldn't be sure - and flown until he couldn't anymore before forcing himself to land. It was fitting, he thought, that he'd ended up here - wherever here was - the cold darkness of the city perfectly mirrored that of his heart and soul.

He walked to the edge of the building and sat, feet hanging down what he now realized was a skyscraper. For a long moment, he stared blankly toward the heavens, ignoring the rain pouring down on his face. That it was raining suited him just fine, in fact. Should anyone find him now, though he didn't expect that anyone would, they wouldn't know he'd been crying; the tears on his cheeks now undistinguishable from the cold autumn rain.

Pulling the ends of his cape tightly around himself, Superman sighed. What an awful sight he must have made, sitting on the edge of a building, dripping wet from the rain, all wrapped up in his red cape; crying. How so unlike himself he was being. And how grateful he was that no one would witness this.

He kept telling himself, over and over, that death was a part of life. He bore witness to that very fact every single day. He was supposed to stay strong even in the face of fatality. He was supposed to be _Superman_. The Earth wasn't suddenly going to stop turning even though Clark Kent's entire universe had just collapsed.

Besides... heroes weren't supposed to cry. Not like this. Especially not _super_ heroes.

Especially not _Superman_.

Crying like this? It wasn't useful. It was weak. It was a weak, human thing to do and...

Superman's head dropped down upon his chest. "You're not even human," he whispered miserably.

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder then, and heard a deep, familiar voice that said, "Of course you are."

Superman didn't look up. Instead, he shut his eyes tightly against the tears that threatened to fall. Of all the people in the universe, he should have known that _Batman_ would be the one to find him. Batman could _always_ find him. Especially when he was the last person in the world that Superman wanted to see, like right now. Never mind the fact that, of all the people Superman could possibly think of, Batman was the only one who might come close to understanding the heartbreaking pain he felt tonight, the numbness that ran all the way to his soul, never mind all of that... Batman was the last person in the world that he wished to appear weak in front of. Batman did not tolerate weakness, and Superman was quite certain that he wouldn't be able to handle the sermon that was sure to come without appearing even weaker and more like a complete failure.

"Are you all right?" Batman asked, but Superman still didn't look up.

He was faintly aware that the hand had left his shoulder; barely heard the small squeaking sound of a boot against the wet concrete of the roof's edge. It wasn't until he felt a solid shape against his side that Superman opened his eyes and looked over to the other man.

"What's wrong?" said Batman in a voice that was almost too soft to be the Dark Knight's.

Superman's eyes went wide almost immediately and a strangled gasp escaped his lips at the realization that Batman was now perched on the ledge of the building, feet dangling precariously over the precipice. In a heartbeat Superman was on his feet, and in the next one they were both standing several feet away from the edge of the building, near the structure that housed the emergency stairwell.

Barely recovered from the shock of having been plucked from where he'd been sitting and transported here in the blink of an eye, Batman stared at Superman for a moment before finally managing an accusatory, "What's wrong with you?" in his usual gruff tone.

"You could have fallen," Superman replied, the words coming out shaky and strangled. "You could have slipped and fallen and-- and-- and _died_ when you hit the pavement below."

"What? Of course not!" Batman protested. "And besides, you--" He stopped mid-sentence, then cocked his head to the side just a little, eyes searching his friend's face. In a voice that was now completely devoid of anything that would make it recognizable as Batman's he said, "You've been crying?"

Superman spun around, hiding his face and his feelings; his weakness and his pain. Immediately there was a hand on his shoulder again. He tried to shrug it off, but Batman squeezed just a little harder and Superman sighed, head bowed down, shoulders slumping in surrender.

"What's the matter?" Batman asked softly, and Superman realized that he was once more using a tone that wasn't the right one, a voice that was much too gentle and too nice to belong to such a dark and stern character.

Choking on a sob, Superman shook his head. How awful, he thought, that he could inspire pity from _Batman_ of all people.

Of course, it wasn't Batman anymore, not when he used that voice; it was just Bruce Wayne, which somehow made it even worse... Batman never broke character like this. And while one could always try and ignore Batman the same way Batman sometimes ignored them, what possible means of defense did Clark Kent have against Bruce Wayne when he was only just trying to be nice? Perhaps a sermon would have been easier to swallow, after all.

Bruce's tone turned to concern. "What's wrong?" he asked. When Superman said nothing, he pressed on, "Clark, please talk to me. Let me help you."

Clark felt like he was being crushed. He couldn't breathe. Batman pitied him, Bruce Wayne wanted to help, and now, all of a sudden Clark couldn't tell which way was up anymore.

"Let me help you," Bruce said again as he moved to face Superman.

Clark looked up to find himself staring, not into the obscure lenses of Batman's cowl as he'd expected, but into Bruce's obviously concerned blue eyes. "You can't help," Clark said, his voice cracking. "No one can. _I_ couldn't help. I couldn't--" The rest of his words never made it past the lump in his throat.

"Please, please tell me what happened," Bruce asked, and it almost seemed like his own voice was cracking.

His vision blurring, Clark took a long, shaky breath. "He died," he said, barely above a whisper. Swallowing back a sob, he rubbed a hand over one of his eyes, wiping away the tears and the rain. "My father died," he explained quietly, looking at the tip of his red boots for fear of breaking down completely should he see the expression on the other man's face.

There was a long pause, until finally Bruce managed an, "I'm sorry," and he ran a hand soothingly down Clark's arm. "I'm so sorry."

Clark looked up almost immediately, his expression halfway between grief and remorse. "He died and I couldn't do anything," he said. "There was nothing I could do. I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't--" He sighed in frustration. "What use is it for me to have all these abilities when I can't even use them to--? When I-- I--" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't even save the people I care about!" he choked out, swaying a little on his feet as a wave of nausea swept over him.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Bruce told him, still sounding nothing but gentle and caring, and Clark would have given anything to be lectured instead.

"I've saved countless lives," Clark said bitterly, "but none of the ones that were truly important. I failed them. Each and every one of those I lost. I always fail them. The people I love... I'm useless to them."

"No, you're not," Bruce insisted. "Don't say things like that. You're not useless, and no one in their right mind would ever think such a thing. You can't be everywhere and you can't do everything; you do what you can and it's all anyone expects of you."

"But it's not enough..." Clark replied, and he swayed on his feet again, his knees nearly giving out from under him.

Bruce stepped in, catching him in one swift move, and for a moment Clark allowed himself to wrap his arms around him and hold tight; almost bone-crushingly so. He pulled away after a too-short moment, knowing that it would have looked suspicious otherwise. Then suddenly he stilled at the dumbfounding realization that Bruce hadn't simply been helping him to stand, either. And now, all too quickly, the moment was gone.

Feeling ever more disheartened, Clark sighed and very quietly said, "I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Do what? Save lives? Be a hero?" Bruce asked, frowning. "What are you going to do instead? Force Lois to move to Smallville so you can keep her out of danger and then hover over her and your mother like an overprotective hen? Watch them like a hawk every minute of the day, just on the off chance something might happen to them?"

"Well, sure, when you put it that way it sounds ridiculous, but--"

"Do you really think," Bruce pressed on immediately, "that you could ignore all the other cries for help, even when you can hear every single one of them? Can you ignore the rest of the universe, Clark? Really? And do you think Lois or your mother would want you to do that? That they'd let you?"

"Well, perhaps not, but--"

"Do you think this is what your father would want you to do?"

"Well, I--" Clark sputtered to a stop, realizing there was no good argument against that sort of logic. "No," he finally said in a quiet tone, before spitting out a frustrated, "But you don't understand!"

"What don't I understand, Clark?" Bruce asked, eyes narrowing. "What it feels like to watch helplessly while someone dear to you takes in their last breath? To know that there's nothing you can do for them anymore? Perhaps you think I don't understand what it's like to blame yourself for something you should have been able to prevent and didn't?" With a frustrated sigh he added, "You're right, I really don't have any idea what any of that is like."

Clark ran a hand through his rain-soaked hair. "I'm sorry," he said in a small voice. "I didn't mean-- I shouldn't have--"

"There's no need to be sorry," Bruce told him with a somewhat forced shrug. "Look, all I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't give up. The people you care about, the people who care about you, they wouldn't want you to just hang up your tights and your cape. Not like this. Clark, do you even realize the power you have? I don't mean physical prowess, I mean power... Just the fact that you exist - just the fact that there's a Superman - do you know how much hope that brings to the world? To the universe! And your loved ones... yes, they're forced to share you with the rest of the world, but you have to believe that this is a sacrifice they make wilfully, and with the utmost pride. You couldn't just give up and let them down, could you?"

"I suppose not," Clark replied, head bowed down.

"I know it hurts," Bruce said in a gentler tone, reaching to place a hand on Clark's shoulder momentarily. "Believe me, I understand. But as much as this hurts, you have to accept the fact that you can't always be there to look after everyone you care about, or keep them safe all the time. Even if you could... there are times when people can't be saved, when there's nothing anyone, not even you, can do for them. And then there are people whom you have to trust are capable of looking after, if not literally saving, themselves."

Clark's head snapped up and he frowned, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. "What, you mean like _you_? You're the least trustworthy person I know in that regard! You take unbelievable risks. All the time!"

"Calculated--"

"Crazy, unbelievable risks!" Clark insisted. Then he pointed to the edge of the building and added, "Like sitting there on the ledge. When it's pouring rain. And you could have slipped, and fallen and-- and--" He sighed in despair. "I've lost so many friends and loved ones already, I don't know what I'd do--" The last of his thought went unsaid as he shook his head miserably instead.

Bruce's lips curled into the faintest of smiles. "Bats always land on their feet," he said.

Jaw clenched tightly in an obvious attempt to remain calm, Clark glared at him for a moment. "They'd damn well better," he grumbled.

"Trust me. Landing on our head would likely cause the pavement to crack," Bruce replied, perfectly deadpan. "Now let's get out of the rain and get you warm and dry. Lois would have my head if I ever let you go home in such a sorry state."

"Okay," Clark replied with a shrug, "just tell me where we need to go."

Raising an amused eyebrow, Bruce pointed over his shoulder to the door leading into the stairwell. "Right through there," he said.

"Oh?" Clark took a step back and looked around.

For a moment, Bruce contemplated him with an expression bordering on surprise and confusion. "You don't have any idea where you are, do you?"

"Not really, no..."

"Welcome to Wayne Tower," Bruce told him in a chuckle before pushing the door open. As Clark walked past him with a puzzled frown, Bruce grabbed his arm and said, "I don't ever want to hear you talk about quitting or abandoning earth, or any such nonsense, you hear?" He took a quick steadying breath. "You're the closest friend I have and I am not prepared to lose that. Not as long as I'm here."

Clark considered him for a moment, then finally he nodded and said, "All right, I won't. I won't talk or even think about hanging up my tights and my cape, as long--"

"Good."

"-- _as long_..." Clark insisted, "as you don't go and do anything careless that'll get yourself killed. You stay alive, and I'll stick around." He paused, then, "Deal?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You realize this means we'll be stuck together for a very long time?"

"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," Clark replied, putting on an air of aloofness, though the smile on his lips, however faint, completely gave his true feelings away. "You?"

"I think I can live with that." Bruce let go of the door. It closed with a metallic click behind them. "Come on, I'll have Alfred make us some of that tea you like..."

"I thought you hated that one?" Clark asked incredulously.

"A cup or two won't harm me," Bruce replied with a half-shrug, and together they started down the first flight of stairs leading toward his penthouse.

 

=> End.


End file.
